


Twenty-Three Dead

by daintylemonsquare



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: Action, Alternate Universe, Angst, Death, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-29
Updated: 2015-07-06
Packaged: 2018-03-20 04:05:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 8
Words: 19,801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3636027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daintylemonsquare/pseuds/daintylemonsquare
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hermione from District 7 is reaped and so is her best friend, Harry. The inevitability of a certain and painful death faces them but Hermione is mostly preoccupied with whether or not she'll have to kill her best friend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Sixtieth Annual Bloodbath

**Author's Note:**

> Fun fact: began writing this in 2011 and I only finished it early this year. Hope you enjoy! Also, even though I'm a total, hardcore Romione shipper (ROMIONE 4 LYFE), my friends forced me to write some Harmony so there it is. Rest assured that it's not going to become a Peeta/Katniss thing. I didn't want to distract anyone from the fact that people are going to die.

“May the odds be ever in your favor, Hermione.” Madam Malkin said as she was boarding her metal plate into the arena. Hermione nodded in response, her nerves disabling her from speaking properly. She stepped on the plate and the glass tube went down around her. Her heart was beating fast and she was already sweating underneath her garb – plain and simple wilderness outfit. At least she was confident about not dying at the hands of the arena.

Malkin watched her with a serious expression, as if willing her to win this competition. As the plate ascended up the tube, Hermione began thinking about her District, 7. She thought of the trees she might not see again, she thought about her parents. She could imagine their faces now, looking up at the screens, pining for her to win this game. Then came the anxiety. The Careers looked especially fierce this year, and nearly everyone, save a few tributes here and there, was in tip top shape. High ratings were a trend during the private training, there was only this one boy who barely got by with a five. It would be a great show at the Cornucopia, she was sure of it.

Finally, as her head got to the surface, she shielded her eyes from the glare of the sun. It was sweltering. But when she adjusted to the new environment, she noticed the pantheon. Above her was nothing by sky, there were white pillars circling the marble floor. In the middle of it all was a golden horn filled with weapons and sustenance.

“Ladies and gentlemen, let the Sixtieth Hunger Games begin!” Bellatrix Lestrange’s grating voice boomed.

During the minute before the games began, she surveyed the arena, turning in place. On one side, there was a town with cobblestone streets and small box-like houses, one identical to the next. Everywhere else, there were lush trees. She felt drawn to that. It was a place she knew she had a fighting chance in.

She spied her opponents and she saw a mixture of over-confidence, uncertainty, and fear. Her gaze landed on a couple of acquaintances during training, Ron and Ginny – a brother-sister team from District 10. Hermione spotted Harry, standing right across her. His green eyes were vibrant as the sun lit them. He waved and she nodded in response. Then his eyes disappeared behind the sun’s glare. For a moment, she wondered how those glasses wouldn’t break after the first day. Then she remembered the shatter proof ones his parents got him just in case he was chosen for the Games. She didn’t know if that was good parenting or bad parenting.

Then there was the sound of the gong jostling her from her thoughts. Hermione lost no time getting off of her plate and towards the Cornucopia. As she drew closer, she noticed the complete lack of weapons, except for a few daggers. On the Cornucopia were only bags of who-knows-what. The houses on the south side were bound to have all the good food and weapons but there was no point turning back now.

She was the second to arrive, first was a girl from District 1, Romilda, Hermione remembered. She glared at her from the other side then picked up a dagger. Hermione immediately ducked out of the way. She heard the metal whizz behind her as she picked up the nearest thing she could find – a backpack. She picked up a few daggers along the way.

“Hermione! Duck!” She heard Harry call and she dropped down the floor just in time to see an axe bounce on the marble floor in front of her. Someone groaned with frustration behind her. She stood and picked the axe off of the floor happily – she didn’t think she was going to get one unless she went down to the houses.

She ran down the stone steps, not giving herself the chance to look back to see who the screams were coming from, whose blood was splattered in front of her, and whom the cannon blasts were for. She sought for refuge in the forest. She saw a couple of tributes, the dreamy blonde girl and her co-tribute, a chubby boy who looked like he should’ve gone down during the initial bloodbath at the Cornucopia. She didn’t see anyone she knew anywhere near her. No Harry, no Ron, no Ginny… She was all alone. If she was lucky, they would die before she was _forced_  to take them on her own.  She had missed how many cannons fired as she ran and ran deeper into the forest. She ran even as her legs started to ache, her lungs started to strain. When she was sure no one had followed her and she was as far from the action, she leaned against a tree, catching her breath. She sank to her knees then fell on her side.

It was quiet now. There weren’t any cannon shots. There weren’t any battle cries from attacking, blood-thirsty teenagers. There were no strange sounds coming from Mutts. She was both thankful and unsettled by it. Silence wasn’t to be trusted.

Hermione opened her pack once she calmed down. It was a medium sized bag filled with water bottles and a sleeping bag. “No weapons.” She muttered, turning her glance toward the small pile of daggers and an axe on her other side.  _At least I have water._  She conceded with a nod. Now she had to find a place for shelter. She hefted the pack after drinking half a bottle of water. She put most of the daggers in the pack, as well as the axe which stuck out conspicuously.

She trekked through the woods, looking for anything that looked like a good shelter. Somewhere hidden but not hard to escape just in case the Gamemakers decide to throw something at her.

That evening, it was humid so a fire wasn’t needed. Luckily she found a hollow tree in the dark forest and hid herself in it, tucking the backpack in snuggly before entering.  She must’ve dozed off because next thing she knew she was jolted awake by the anthem playing. The sky lit with the face the District 5 girl, Hannah, and sighed. She didn’t know why she was so disappointed none of the Careers had died that day, it wasn't like they died easily.

From the boy of District 6, the picture jumped to the girl from District 8.  _Harry’s still out there._ She thought with a slight bounce in her throat from the idea of seeing her fellow tribute and best friend. But as soon as her heart jumped with relief that Harry was still alive, it dropped as a familiar face covered the sky. _Ginny_. She bit down her finger, covering the gasp that bubbled behind her lips. She was one of the friendlier faces during training, along with her brother, who had survived today’s bloodbath. Her thoughts fell on Ron who must’ve been there when his sister died. Probably even killed the person who killed his sister. She hoped he was alright. As alright as someone in the Games could be.

The possibility of having to kill Harry, assuming they both survive to that point, came back. It made her gnaw on the inside of her mouth, wishing that someone either killed her first or killed him for her. She was glad their thoughts weren’t broadcasted too.

When the last face disappeared (both District 12 tributes were gone), Hermione allowed herself to sleep.

Hermione woke with a start, clutching her axe tightly. Someone was nearby. She could hear them talking. In her groggy state, panic began to set in. She wasn’t awake enough to fight or run. She could do well one-on-one but against two or more? She was a goner if they found her. If she stayed motionless and quiet, they would probably just pass her by. She held her breath as the voices grew. Her heart was thumping as she hoped that they wouldn’t see her hiding in the nook.

“Do you really think we’ll find water soon, Luna?” A gravelly voice came from the other side of the wood.

“I’m certain.” Another voice replied coolly, Luna, obviously. Hermione recognized them from training – the tributes of District 3. “I didn’t spend time on that wilderness survival leg of the training for no reason.” She could hear the teasing and lightness in the girl’s voice. She suddenly felt incredibly sad. Sad that this wasn’t the regular camping trip and the two weren’t just lost. Sad that a girl who was probably really sweet, and a boy who was probably a helpless thing, were stuck in a game where they would be hunted by the likes of those from District 1 and 2. She liked Luna and her teammate Neville; they were the complete  _opposite_  of who should be in the Games. She didn’t want to be the one to take them down though she knew she could’ve. The last thing she wanted to be was to be a cold-blooded killer, the one to initiate, a  _Career_. To win was despicable enough, but to win because of willfully attacking someone off-guard? She’d much rather throw herself off the nearest cliff.

She let go of the breath she was holding and waited for them to disappear from earshot. Not wanting to hurt them but not wanting to join them either. She had to save her own skin in the end after all, and she didn’t think she’d have the heart to abandon them when the time came.

A few minutes and a couple sips of water later, she rolled out of her nook and stretched. As much as she wanted to stay in there and wait for the Games to end, it’d be dangerous to stay in one place – she knew as much after watching a lot of Games before this one. Besides, she needed some food and since she thought the chances of catching a small woodland creature were slim, she’d settle for some vegetation.

She kept moving, later she’d realize that she was going the same direction as Luna and Neville, veering left afterwards. Half an hour later, she got a rabbit with one of her daggers and found a small area near the river that ran one side of the arena where she could messily prepare her meal. She saved half and began trekking somewhere else, certain that the smoke from her fire would attract someone to her direction.

It was a surprisingly quiet morning. Usually the day after the bloodbath there’d be at least one or two cannons going off. But she took that as a bit of comfort as she walked through the woods. The silence stayed with her until an hour after noon when she heard a couple of voices nearby.  _Both boys_ , she thought as she jumped behind a large tree, holding her axe with both hands, ready for a fight. Would she be able to take them both down with just an axe? She closed her eyes and drew a deep breath. She couldn’t risk losing it on the first try. With her right hand, she took a small dagger from one of the pockets from her pack and waited for the voices to be close enough.

There was a rustle of leaves and she whirled to throw a lone dagger to the nearest tribute.

Ron. 


	2. Listen to Hermione

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry, Ron, and Hermione form an alliance. That's unfortunate.

Hermione gasped when she realized what she had done. Fortunately, Harry had them both down on the ground before the dagger found its mark. It embedded on the tree behind them.

“Hermione!” Harry shouted happily, jumping to his feet and running into a tight hug. He completely forgot that a second ago she was planning to kill them both. Her face broke into a goofy little grin. “I’m so happy you’re okay.” He whispered into her ear.

 “I’m happy you’re okay too.” She said back.

“You almost killed me!” Ron complained as he stood and picked the dagger out of the tree. “Hello? Love birds?”

Hermione glared playfully over Harry’s shoulder and Ron just smirked, waving the dagger in the air. They pulled away from the hug and Hermione walked over to Ron and plucked the dagger out of his hand. “I’m sorry.” She said like it was a normal, run-of-the-mill mistake. Ron laughed and gave her shoulder a quick pat. She smiled then faltered. “Sorry about Ginny.” She mumbled and Ron did a quick shrug and a small smile in return as if to say “what’s done is done”. They didn’t talk about her.

Alliances were dangerous. They almost always got attached and it was always heart breaking in the end. The Capitol got off on it, naturally.

The three of them knew that, clear as crystal. But that didn’t stop them from enjoying each other’s company. That didn’t stop them from finding a smidgen of comfort from each other. That didn’t stop them from sharing a laugh from time to time as they looked for edible fruits growing from the arena. That didn’t stop them from sharing a whole rabbit, sitting around a fire and talking about the other tributes in the arena with them. It was a morbid subject, considering they were having supper as they talked about it, but since it was the Hunger Games, the time for etiquette was long gone.

They had enough time to find a safe place under a fallen tree before dark. Once again, it was a warm night, no need for extra protection from the elements so they slept as peacefully as they could on the ground. There weren’t any deaths that day and it cast a sort of blanket of security that night though it was only a matter of time before the next cannon blast.

The following day, Hermione woke up with a start and the smell of roasted vegetables wafting in the air. She blinked her eyes open to a small fire right in front of her and Ron right across her, holding a stick with a few roots. “I hope you don’t mind.” He said, noticing her fluttering eyes. “I used some of the water to clean them.” He yawned.

It was then that Hermione was aware of the arm around her waist and the breath on the nape of her neck.  _Harry_. She realized. She blushed profusely as she picked his arm off of her and scooted away. This was no place for any of _that_ here but that was what she got for sleeping beside him. Ron smiled. Hermione distracted herself by having a nice sip of water. Of course, Ron had to ask.

“You and him, eh?” He said, amusement coloring his tone.

Hermione bristled and scowled. “We’ve been friends since we were little.”

“Right.” Hermione was already glaring at him.

Not only was it embarrassing to talk about with Harry’s sleeping form right behind her, it was being broadcasted through the  _entirety_  of Panem which included her parents.  _Oh my God._  Her parents always badgered her about their relationship, thinking it was more than platonic. Ron had the same look on his face. She groaned. “I could kill you, you know.” Ron laughed. “Harry and I are just friends, Ron.”

“Well, you know we might  _die_ , so why not tell the truth?” He shrugged, tossing her a root, which she nearly dropped.

There was a certain sting to Ron’s words. It was like he was saying she didn’t have a chance of winning the Games. True as that might be, the odds aren’t _exactly_  in her favor considering the fact that she came to the arena with nothing more than a decent hand with daggers and axes and her brain. And considering the fact that this year’s Careers were the most vicious she’s ever seen. Still, she wanted what every kid in the arena wanted, to go  _home_. And to win was to go home.

She should’ve been offended. But she swallowed her pride and took a bite of the edible but unsavory root. “It’s not that big a deal.” She said.

“If it wasn’t then you wouldn’t get all grouchy about it.” Ron took a bite from his root. “Gah. This stuff is  _horrible_.” Hermione laughed. The sound of Ron spitting out his first bite and Hermione’s giggle caused Harry to wake up. He took his glasses from the rock and sat up as he mumbled a greeting. Ron wordlessly tossed a root that Harry caught. He took one bite and spat it out.

“That’s ghastly.” He said, grabbing for the water and the other two tributes laughed. It felt so easy to laugh with the two of them around, Hermione thought. She later decided that she’d much rather spend the next few days with the two of them than to be alone and paranoid in some hollow tree or under a rock formation.

“I think we should go to those houses.” Hermione announced after she rearranged her pack later that afternoon. Was it her or was it getting hotter? She slung the pack over her shoulder, wishing she’d taken off her jacket just like the other two. She raised her hand against the sun and realized it was brighter than the day before.  _Better get some water._

She met Harry and Ron’s questioning looks and she rolled her eyes. “I  _think_  the weapons are there, don’t you? Why else would they put ‘houses’ in the Games?”

“Have a go at providing actual shelter for the tributes this year?” Ron said dryly, then he added. “It’s bait. All of us want weapons – we go there, we die.”

“And I figure the Careers are living there now, they always survive the bloodbath and they always keep the Cornucopia for themselves. They’d have an advantage.” Harry said as he polished his glasses again. Hermione’s face turned as she watched Harry scrutinize his glasses, a little perturbed with the fact that they hadn’t given him anything to help with his vision. She knew they were shatter-proof but they could still be knocked off his head.

They were right. Anyone with common sense would know that. “But there’s always a way around it.” Hermione said almost to herself as her eyes went around looking for something that could help them. She glanced up a tall tree and began climbing it. The boys asked her what she was doing but she ignored them, she focused on not falling down. When she was near the top, she could see the pantheon and the Cornucopia. She squinted and tilted her head in angle that helped her see around the pantheon despite the intensity of sunlight.

“What are you looking for?” Harry grunted from below.

“Trying to figure out how far the farthest house is and get in it. Maybe they’ve got food, delicious ones. Or maybe they’ve got a lot more weapons.” Harry huffed and sat on the opposite branch. “Didn’t you notice the extreme lack of weapons?” She stood up to get a better look and noticed that one of the houses was partially shaded by trees. Since the arena was surrounded by trees, save the pantheon and the houses, they could skirt around without being detected, she realized, if they were careful and if there weren’t any traps.

“Who didn’t?” Harry answered, surveying the surroundings as well. “It’s actually surprising how many died the first day with so little weapons at our disposal.” Just then, they caught a glimmer of light from the pantheon, then another. “Did you see that?”

“Swords.” Hermione nodded before climbing down the tree. “That’s it. I’m not going to defend myself from a sword with daggers and an axe.”

“At least you  _have_  an axe.” Harry called from above.

“I thought I was gonna have to sing the ‘Sitting on a Tree’ song soon.” Ron said, arms on his hips.

“Well why didn’t you climb up?” Hermione said, sounding a little irritated.

He gestured to his stocky build. “I didn’t want to break anything.”

The trio walked along the tree line. No one crossed their path as the neared the houses. It seemed eerily peaceful, making Hermione paranoid of the surroundings. Peacefulness would make a person let their guard down and an attack could come when they least expect it. A number of scenarios flittered through her mind and her body reacted as if they would come true. A thought of an aerial attack (a heavy net and arrows came to mind) made her look up the trees. A memory of her hiding behind a tree before she threw a dagger at Ron made her muscles ready to jump to the ground the moment she saw something in front of her move, then she looked back every time they passed a tree, just in case. Ron, annoyingly enough, seemed to be sightseeing. At least Harry watched where he was going.

A couple of hours and a lunch break later (they were lucky enough to snatch a rabbit again), they were in the shadow of the pantheon. All of them were cautious as they heard a few of the Careers speak from the top. They went deeper into the forest; the Careers might’ve set traps near the perimeter.

“Why’d you have to choose the farthest one?” Ron whispered impatiently as they crept through the trees. The houses were just several steps away.

“That way, if they  _do_  spot us, it’d take them some time to get to us, giving us enough time to escape.” Hermione answered, throwing a glare over her shoulder.

Ron huffed, displeased but she knew she was right and continued to head their group through the woods. They also couldn’t complain about the shade. After several hot minutes of walking, they reached a group of trees close together and Hermione broke through the tree line and crept towards a house. Ron and Harry followed suit.

As they neared one door, Hermione just wanted to jump in to get out from the heat that was beating on them but she stopped herself – a shimmer of wire made her realize that the house had a trap.

“Stop. They set up traps.” She said over her shoulder and she was glad she did. Ron had a foot in the air, halfway into a doorway and Harry had his hand closed around a doorknob of a different house. Both of them took a step back. Hermione picked up a rock and threw it at the wire she saw and an arrow flew through the air, embedding itself at a nearby tree.

Ron and Harry began gathering stones around them while Hermione stepped into the small house. She was met with a selection of weapons as well as a bed. She didn’t think she’d ever see one again. As she hurried through, getting all of the weapons she could carry – quivers full of arrows, the empty crossbow that was meant for her, another axe, a net, an assortment of daggers – she found a cooling unit. That made her grin, turning it on without a second thought. She sighed with relief when a soft hum pierced the silence and cold air cut into the heat, stripping off her sweat stained clothes and relishing the moment.  _Just this moment of indulgence,_ she thought,  _then I’m out of here._

She ran to the door and called Ron and Harry, arms full of food, water, and weapons. They rushed to the house and cheered, taking off their clothes as well.

After she decided her moment was over, Hermione went to work, arranging the bounty they’d found. Harry shuffled over to help while Ron lounged on the bed a minute extra, eating an apple. Realizing that they’d stayed too long, Hermione tossed an apple at Ron, making him sit up. “What?”

“Can you check if we’ve attracted attention?” She asked.

“If we have, then we’d be dead, won’t we?” He replied, tossing the apple right back. “Relax.”

“I’m done relaxing.” She said sharply. “You should be too.”

“Hermione –”

“Who are you? My mother?” Ron countered with a glare to match hers.

“It’s like you  _want_  to die.” Hermione was on her feet and so was Harry, prepared to pull them off of each other. Instead, she walked to the door and slowly opened it then stepped out for a few seconds before walking back in.

“See, we’re  _fine_.” Ron said, finally sitting up from the bed. “Don’t be so uptight.”

“Whatever, let’s go before –” The sound of a cannon rang and all of them hurriedly grabbed their things and ran out of the house.

“Told you so.” She said while they rushed by trees, putting as much distance between them and the houses.

“Shut up.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leave a comment or kudos telling me this is okay for me to post hahahahaha


	3. So Close

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The trio runs into a few other tributes and things get complicated.

It was a quiet for the rest of the afternoon and the rest of the night. Though the sky was dark, it remained hot like an oven. Harry had found a lamp which meant they didn’t have to light a fire and add to the heat. They were eating properly, not all surprising for the second day into the Games. Hermione hoped it wasn’t just a lucky break. Looking back to the direction of the Cornucopia, she imagined the Careers eating a buffet of food and they’d only gotten their rejects. As she contemplated this over her can of tuna (she hadn’t had any before, she just knew it from the books she’s read and the echo of a memory of her mother bringing some home when she was younger – a memory that succeeded to pull her mood down), Ron and Harry was having a happy conversation across her.

Hermione felt pity accompanying the sadness she was feeling. Making friends never ended well here. She knew  _they_  knew that but she couldn’t comprehend why it didn’t stop them. She and Harry was understandable, considering they didn’t have a choice being here, but she couldn’t put a finger on those tributes that strike up more than an allegiance. It all boiled down to death and pain and trauma. She thought it was very stupid, doing so. Like neither Ron nor Harry had watched the Hunger Games before.

She heard Harry laugh, certainly something she didn’t expect on hearing during this whole ordeal. “What?” She couldn’t help the curiosity.

“Ron was just –” The anthem had started and the lone face in the sky flashed before them, the boy from District 5, Seamus. Suddenly, she didn’t think she deserved to laugh anymore. A boy with a family just died and here they were, laughing. Then, it was dark again. “Anyway –”

“I’m going to go sleep first.” Hermione said, walking to where they kept the sleeping bags. “Wake me up in a couple of hours.”

“Alright.” Harry said, though she could hear the disappointment in his voice. She peeked over her shoulder and she could see she was right. She’d ruined the mood.  _Well, they shouldn’t be enjoying themselves here. We’re all on death’s door. We’re being made to kill each other for the morbid entertainment of the Capitol. This isn’t a happy camping trip._

Hermione didn’t bother sliding herself inside the bag; it was too hot for it. She wasn’t sure she’d be able to sleep. Once her head was down, however, she found herself more exhausted than she anticipated. The heat made it uncomfortable but she wasn’t going to complain. Ron and Harry spoke in hushed tones, lulling Hermione to sleep like a boring lullaby, only to wake her up a little bit right before she lost consciousness.

“Why does she have to act like she has a stick up her ass all the time? Would it kill her to have a little fun while we’re here?” Ron asked. Hermione was already of thinking of ways to murder him only to feel guilty when he continued, “I know there is a chance we’ll die here but why waste the time we spend  _not_ running scared, hiding scared, or sleeping scared by having a bit of a laugh here and there? Is it so bad to try and forget about it sometimes?”

“There’s nothing bad about it.” Harry said. “But Hermione’s just like that, you know? She’s logical, cautious. She didn’t mean to be a downer all the time. She’s actually quite fun once you get to know her.”

“I find that hard to believe.” Ron snorted. “But I guess I’ll have to take your word for it.”

The boys stopped at that train of thought. Hermione wished she could turn around to defend herself. Brag about all of the fun things she was capable of doing and lecture Ron about how she didn’t want to find anything remotely enjoyable in the Games because nothing was supposed to be enjoyable here – not the arena, not the constant death, and definitely not the killing. She couldn’t find the energy to even roll over, falling asleep comforted with the thought that, if she’d had the energy, she’d prove Ron wrong.

She woke two hours later with Harry’s hand on her shoulder. “Hey, sorry. It’s your turn.” Hermione sat up and stretched. They still had a bright halo of light around them, a bad idea if they asked her. She wasn’t up to punishing them for it so she kept her quiet, focusing on waking up and being alert.

Ron was already curled up with his back towards them, shifting from time to time. A sword laid beside him, a hand draped over the handle. “I’ll stay up another hour before –” Harry yawned and chuckled. “You know.” Hermione couldn’t help but think about killing Ron and Harry. She’d been primed to do so the moment she heard her name being called during the Reaping.

As she traced the handle of her axe with her fingers, she counted the seconds it would take to kill Harry then kill Ron. She could impale Harry with her axe right now, cutting down to his heart then stand and cut Ron’s head off. She pictured herself doing that to her unsuspecting companions – one asleep judging by his snores and the other blinded by their close friendship.  _12 seconds._  Then she winced, closing her eyes and wishing the image away. She could do it, rip the band aid off and be done. But she couldn’t do that to Lily and James. She couldn’t bear to go home after murdering her best friend.

 _I wish we didn’t run into each other_. Hermione thought, looking at Harry falling asleep against a tree. She prayed that someone else kill them for her and she immediately felt like a horrible human being right at the moment she did.

Hermione didn’t go back to sleep. Picturing her death and her companions’ death kept her awake, as well as the images of her doing the deed slipped in when she let her mind wander too far. Whenever it went there, she tried to picture the rest of her competitors. She didn’t wake Harry or Ron until the first rays of sunlight appeared.

“Wha – why didn’t you wake me?” Ron asked, shooting up to a sitting position.

“I figured you needed the rest.” Hermione replied.

“It’s too early for this.” Ron muttered as he ran his fingers through his hair. His eyes narrowed at her. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Hey.” Harry reproached.

“It’s not like that Ron. I wanted some peace and quiet so I let you sleep.” Hermione said.  She held her tongue from taunting Ron with one, very real way that they could settle this spat. She didn’t want to be an instigator of bloodshed; it’d make people like her more. She stared at Ron with empty eyes until Ron looked away first.

She didn’t let the relief flood through her.

Ron stayed ahead of the group for an hour while they walked to the river under the heat of the arena sun. Harry tried to make Hermione understand why Ron reacted that way but Hermione waved it off, she already understood. Weakness, even perceived weakness, would kill their chances of getting sponsors. Coupled with Ron’s place in the hierarchy of districts, it was almost absurd to think he’d have any. Ron was many things, Hermione knew, but he wasn’t a moron.

When the hour was up, Hermione and Harry caught up with Ron, only because he stopped walking.

“Who is it?” Harry asked, shielding his eyes from the glare.

“It’s District 3.” Ron whispered.

Hermione put a hand above her eyebrows and squinted. The river was narrower than the first time she saw it. The banks were dry. She saw a shock of white hair towards the clearing’s edge, beside it was a boy lying on his stomach and a water canteen. She realized that Luna was hunched over the boy, her hands holding one of his. They couldn’t hear but it seemed obvious what the exchange was all about.

Then, the sound of cannon filled the still air. Luna didn’t cry out. Hermione sighed. “Let’s give her a moment. She’ll leave.” She told the boys in a whisper.

“I know you’re there.” Luna announced before they could move. “I won’t try to kill you if you won’t try to kill me.” She smiled at the three of them and Hermione couldn’t help but feel her heart wrench. They shouldn’t be subjected to this.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione walked out of the trees, the sun’s heat pounding on them the moment they did. Luna took one last look at Neville before she turned to the thinning river. “Dehydration.” She explained in a casual tone that made the trio look to each other with surprise. “We should stock up with water; we’re going to need it in this heat.”

Harry rifled through his pack and produced an extra container. “Here.” He said. “We’ve got more than enough.”

“Thank you, Harry.” She said, taking the container.

“You’re welcome, er…” Harry floundered.

“Luna.” Hermione and Luna supplied in unison. Luna smiled over her shoulder before she stepped down the bank. Ron had a hand up to help Luna, only to fall awkwardly when she didn’t take it.

“Sorry about Neville.” Hermione said when they neared the river.

“Me too.” She replied, looking directly at a tree as if addressing Neville’s family.

Behind them, the sound of a hovercraft breaking through the clouds appeared. Out of respect, Hermione didn’t even spare a glance. She could already picture Neville’s limp body being lifted off the ground. Harry and Ron did the same, focusing on filling their canteens and empty containers with water. Luna stood and watched. “When you think about it,” Luna said, “I’m glad he’s gone. He’s in a far better place.” Hermione admired how Luna remained collected. She didn’t know how she would react if it were Harry. She couldn’t begin to fathom how many emotions it would take before she reached lonely grief. It would really depend on how he died, if there were any tributes around to blame for it, or, worst-case scenario, if she’d done it herself.

Harry smiled at her and she smiled back, masking the guilt that returned as if he knew she was thinking about what it would be like if she killed her best friend. She wondered if he shared these thoughts. Surely it must’ve passed his mind.

“I hear people.” Ron growled, putting an arrow in his bow. Hermione was jarred into action, tossing containers into their packs with the help of Luna while Harry took out his axe.

“Do we run?” Luna asked. Ron shot Luna a look over his shoulder then caught Hermione’s gaze. The decision to add another member to their group had its conflicts. Bringing Luna along would mean another mouth to feed, a person to distrust no matter how pleasant she seemed, and potentially another friend to lose if they dragged this on. That was what she saw in Ron’s eyes. Hermione saw Luna’s exceptional knowledge of plants and camouflage.

“Depends on who we’re up against.” Hermione answered, pulling out a dagger from her pack and offering it to Luna.

“Do you have anything bigger?” They shared a smile as Hermione stood, unsheathing a sword that was strapped to Harry’s back.

“HELP! HELP! OH MY GOD, HELP!” A girl burst through the trees, her black hair pressed against her face with sweat. Seconds later, the tributes of District 4 followed her.

“Scream all you want, 9! No one’s going to help you!” The boy laughed, shooting an arrow at her. 

“Cedric, you shoot like a girl!” His partner called as she threw a spear and hit her mark, sending the girl from District 9 down, the sound of a cannon following before she even hit the ground. Hermione knew that for once the odds were in their favor for once. Two careers against four well-armed tributes wasn’t anything to worry about. They noticed this too, stopping in the middle of the clearing.

The girl, Fleur, Hermione recalled, wasn’t shy about eye contact as she pulled her spear out of her kill. Cedric pointed an arrow at them, Ron did the same.

“Looks like the big, bad Careers are outnumbered.” Ron sneered.

“Careful, 10, you’ll poke your eye out with that.” Cedric taunted and Ron let loose his arrow, only to have it embedded on a tree. Cedric fired his but the four of them dove away.

“Look, we’re here for the water. Pansy was just for fun.” Fleur reasoned and Hermione nearly threw her axe at her.

“For fun?!” Harry was about to do the same, clear with his stance after he put his pack on himself. “How about we have some fun with you?” Fleur and Cedric stepped back as Harry stepped forward. “Odds not in your favor?”

“We can take you easy. What have you got? A loon, bad aim, and a couple of axes? I don’t think you were trained to handle those things, babe.” Fleur glared.

Luna took hold of Hermione’s hand, catching her attention and then sending it to the fringes of the clearing with a subtle flick of her eyes. Hermione saw the tracker jacker hive, her throat tightening immediately, as Luna moved behind her. “There’s a girl with an arrow pointed at it. We should run.” Without warning, Luna ran, causing Harry to turn around.

“What –” Ron pushed Harry to the ground and another arrow whizzed past.

“Aw, don’t run away! Let’s give them a show!” Cedric called, nocking another arrow as Fleur advanced.

“Where the hell –?” Ron began only to be interrupted by Hermione.

“Jacker hive, run!” She hissed. With a hand to pull Harry up, and some help from Ron, who carried the bulk of Harry’s weight, they ran after Luna. Hermione looked over her shoulder to see Fleur and Cedric kneeling at the water’s edge. They didn’t stop running, even with their packs weighing them down, until they reached the end of the river, which was a dark cave, leading to places Hermione didn’t want to discover. Luna crossed it and they followed. As soon as the water touched Hermione’s knee, the sound of a cannon filled the air, making them hurry in case the tracker jackers decided to attack something else in the vicinity.

There was only one cannon fire, Hermione noted, as they began climbing the bank on the other side. She let herself hope that it was for Fleur or Cedric. Later on, when they were sure they weren’t pursued by tracker jackers, catching their breath, Hermione had a feeling that the two managed to survive the attack somehow and that the girl who shot the arrow in the first place experienced a painful death.

“Quite an invigorating run, wasn’t it?” Luna chimed, breaking their out of breath silence.

Ron shot her an incredulous glare while Harry, still hunched over, said, “Yeah, running in hopes we won’t die of jacker stings. Fun exercise.”

Luna seemed unfazed, looking at the dying shrubs that surrounded them. “We can camp here for the night. There are plenty of berries to pick for dinner. Get them while they last.” She picked out a tiny piece of fruit and tossed it into her mouth, waggling her head from side to side. “Did you know raspberries, strawberries, blackberries, and boysenberries aren’t even really berries because their seeds are on the outside and not on the inside? Berries typically have their berries inside.”

Hermione laughed a little when she saw Harry and Ron exchange confused looks. “Alright, I’ll bite.” Ron muttered while he slumped down against a tree. “What are they then?” He asked.


	4. Be Our Guest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione and Ron have a conversation and they raid the Careers' territory again for food with interesting results.

Luna managed to lull Ron to sleep and Harry into a daze talking about what the real meaning of berries were and, after that, the health benefits. Hermione interjected a few times but found herself intrigued by Luna’s knowledge. Harry seemed to wait until Luna fell silent, rolling a few berries along her palm before he shut his eyes completely and started to snore.

Hermione sat beside Luna, her axe against her chest. They didn’t talk for a while until Luna pointed out how the arena was only showing them a simulation of a setting sun instead of them being in some random spot of wilderness in Panem.

“It’s nice of them to give us something beautiful in a dreadful situation.” Luna commented when the sky turned from blue to a vibrant gold and orange with a promise of violet in the end.

“Still, it’s fake.” Hermione said, staring up at the illusion of a sky, wishing she were in the woods near her and Harry’s homes.

“But it’s so real, though.” Luna said dreamily, lying down, her hair contrasting against the earth. “It makes it easy to pretend and there’s nothing wrong with pretending. We should enjoy this while we can still see it.”

Hermione stayed where she sat, watching Luna’s eyes reflect what she saw. She could almost see her dissociating from the arena as easily as she said it. Hermione tried to do that a few times but the facts were too loud for her to even let go for a moment. She was carrying an axe sharper than she’s used to. She saw a boy die of dehydration and a girl killed with a spear. She was confronted by the very real idea that six other tributes were willing to spill blood. She ran from tracker jackers.  These facts were not easy to ignore. These facts made it easy, however, for Hermione to keep on wishing that this was all a dream despite all logic to the contrary.

She stayed awake long enough to see the warmth of the colors change to evening and for Harry to rise from his slumber.

Hermione woke to the heat. It was dark but it felt like she was being cooked in an oven. She noticed that she was already on her side, with a folded, sweaty jacket underneath her head. Then, when she thought she couldn’t be more uncomfortable, her arm was suddenly covered with pins. She rolled over and decided to open her eyes to the starry sky, shaking her arm awake.

She sat up and realized the lack of light coming from the lamp they were supposed to have. Relief flooded her when she felt the handle of her axe right beside her. “Harry?” She whispered into the darkness.

“Oh, hey, you’re up.” Harry replied, closer than she thought he was.

“Why haven’t you turned on the lamp?” She asked, feeling for a bottle of water in the pack a few inches away from her.

“The batteries died before you woke.” Harry answered.

“Luna’s gone.” Ron said immediately to the left of Hermione, which made her jump and grip her axe.

“God, Ron!” She gasped. “What do you mean she’s gone?”

“She left and Harry – I’m glaring at you right now – Harry gave her a part of our food and weapons.” Ron huffed and slumped down on the truck of the tree they were sitting against.

“We’ve got enough for a couple more days.” Harry argued. “And I didn’t give her  _all_  of our weapons. When are we ever going to use that crossbow anyway when we’ve already got a bow and arrow?”

“Maybe when we’re  _getting killed_? It’s good to have a spare!” Ron growled.

“It was the decent thing to do, Ron!”

“The decent thing to do was kill her.”

“Ronald!” Hermione’s eyes bulged the moment he said it.

“Don’t pretend like you two are any better because we know only one person is going to be the victor and I don’t want any more competition than I already have so I’m sorry if I’m being practical.” Ron said through his teeth then a heavy silence fell. Hermione knew it would’ve been too late to agree with Ron. She didn’t know what to say and she hated it. This would’ve been an opportune time to break away from each other but with this batch of Careers, she knew it was better if she stayed with them in hopes that the Careers would get slowly picked off.

 _We could get slowly picked off too_. She thought.

Hermione spoke up after what seemed to be hours of deep silence, offering to take the first watch. Ron didn’t say anything and Harry muttered a goodnight.

Silence coupled with the darkness made Hermione curl against the tree with her axe across her feet and two hands gripping the handle. She closed her eyes since there was no point in having them open. Keeping awake was easy since the thoughts of leaving and not leaving, the possibility of being only the three of them left to fight to the death made her mind race with all of the scenarios which all included her death and Harry’s death.

The anthem should’ve been a reprieve but in the end it made her more anxious. The girl who raised the arrow to the jacker hive, District 6 – Cho was her name – was one of three faces in the sky. Hermione made a mental list of the remaining Tributes when it was dark again. For a time, she thought of Luna seeing Neville’s face once more then she was disturbed by a rustle.

“Damn anthem.” Ron muttered, followed by the sound of his gulps of water. There was a soft thump of his back hitting the tree then there was nothing for a while until he said, “Sorry about yelling at you earlier.”

“It’s fine.” Hermione replied.

“You get where I was coming from, don’t you?” He asked.

Hermione paused, worried about how Harry would react with her agreeing with what Ron said. She shook her head then sighed. “You could’ve worded it better but yes, I do. The Games force you to ally then force you to kill them in the end. Luna made the right decision to leave and killing her would’ve been more logical but… Harry’s all for helping people out. Being noble is one of his best traits.”

Ron hummed, whether in agreement or to simply indicate he was listening, Hermione wasn’t sure. “You know what really blows about these Games? Sometimes you see decent people doing horrible things because we all want to go home and forget all of this ever happened. In the end though, you’d be too messed up to enjoy anything and you sometimes wish you lost.”

This gave Hermione a pause, pleasantly surprised that a brute-like person was capable of this level of thought. Ron chortled. “Your silence either means you’re asleep or you’re surprised I’m actually thinking.”

“I’ll be honest, it’s the second one. Not that you gave me much of a choice.” Hermione couldn’t help but laugh.

“Knew it. Smart people always get like that with me.” He said, sounding like he was smiling. He left a silence for the smiles to stay before he added, “My mentor, Moody, you remember him, right?”

Hermione was taken back to the mentor that burst into the training room to yell at Ginny and Ron for “underperforming, you might as well die right now”. It took four peacekeepers to finally take him out of the area and five minutes for everyone who wasn’t a Career to get back to actually training. “Vividly.” She said.

“He’s pretty intense, sure. But when you get him talking… At some point he told me and Ginny about what comes after winning. It’s not a pretty picture. Then he told us that losing isn’t so bad if it happens fast enough. My parents would kill him if they knew what he said but I kind of appreciated it, you know? I appreciated the truth.” Ron said. He was silent again and Hermione waited for a continuation she knew was coming. “Do you think you’ll be alright with winning?”

Hermione took her time like she did with all other questions she was faced. She weighted the pros and the cons. She thought about the bits and pieces of PTSD she read after rarely seeing the most recent Victor from their district after her time at the Capitol. She didn’t need Moody to know how ugly the picture was. “I don’t know.” She said. “I’d like to say yes but that wouldn’t be really true, would it? And you never really know how you’ll react to something until it happens. I could say yes and I could say no but who knows how it’ll be in the end.”

“Except twenty three dead.” Ron supplied. Hermione echoed it, agreeing.

“I’m glad we had this chat. You’re not the bookish machine I originally thought you were.” Ron then said, making Hermione roll her eyes with a breathy laugh.

“And you’re not as much of a reckless idiot as I thought you were.”

“Thanks.”

Hermione knew in the middle of a hushed conversation in the darkness that a friendship had properly formed. Harry being around was hard enough, now she had Ron too.

She fell asleep once Harry woke and found herself hoping that they’d patch things up when it would’ve been easier for all of them if they’d just fight and leave. When she woke, the trio was still a trio and they’d even decided to raid another house for food. Harry mentioned that, as they were packing up, the Gamemakers were going to force them to the Careers one way or the other and it was better to walk there than to be forced by an unnecessary perilous situation.

The heat became almost unbearable as soon as the sun hit its highest. They were forced to take their shirts off and rest in the biggest possible patch of shade they could find. At least they were near the houses. Hermione noticed Harry and Ron keeping their eyes trained on something else entirely whenever she was right in front of them, which was most of the time. She appreciated it but she didn’t think it mattered.

On a branch of a tall tree, Hermione squinted at the glimmering Cornucopia but couldn’t quite see if the Careers were taking shelter there or not. “Couldn’t they just walk to this side and we could shoot them down one by one from the trees?” Hermione muttered. The heat was getting to her.

“Anything?” Ron called. “I’d kill for a cooling unit right about now. And a cold shower. I never appreciated the cold showers back home.”

“They’re not lounging in the Cornucopia, that’s for sure.” Hermione sighed, praying for a cold shower too.

“Let’s just go. They’re probably napping in some big house on a big, comfortable bed with a big cooling unit.” He said.

“I doubt it.” Harry said from where he laid with a shirt over his eyes. “I doubt any of them even sleep considering how damn competitive they all are.”

“Yeah, they probably just stare at each other, sharpening their daggers and swords and arrows.” Ron chuckled as Hermione began climbing down the tree. “Sparring and flexing their muscles at each other.” Harry snorted while Hermione smiled.

Then something caught her eye. “Wait, I see something!” Any lower on the tree and she could’ve missed the parachute falling from the sky a few yards away from where they were. “They’re getting a parachute.”

Ron scoffed. “Of course they are. They’re the cream of the crop. Everyone’s got a hard on for this year’s Careers and we’re left to fend for ourselves while they lounge and murder with smiles on their pompous faces.” She could’ve put it in gentler terms but it was the same thought. “I’d yell out my frustrations but that wouldn’t help at all. Let’s go pillage or whatever. I deserve something nice for once.”

Harry smiled at sat up, putting his dry shirt back on. “Are they near?” He asked.

“Somewhat but if we don’t call attention to ourselves, we could get away clean.” Hermione answered when she dropped off the final branch. The boys turned away and she rolled her eyes, sliding on her jacket, sleeves rolled up and zipped halfway. “The whole of Panem has seen me topless, get over yourselves.” She said, picking up her bag then her axe.

“So you want us to stare at you like the rest of them?” Ron smirked and Hermione raised her axe at him. They laughed, Ron backing away with his hands up, and Hermione was afraid of how much she was enjoying their company. She tried to swallow and forget the feeling but it stayed too long for it not to linger.

“Let’s go.” She said shortly and turned on her heel.

With light feet, they walked around, finding a house that wasn’t booby-trapped and had the supplies they sought. Right beside the third house that had a stunning amount of weapons, they found a house full of canned meat and water. Ron had resisted the urge to cheer as they entered, taking as much as they could carry.

“Oh God, it’s meat from my district!” Ron laughed while staring at a can of corned beef. “Thanks Mom! Thanks Dad!” He said, holding up the cans while turning in a circle.

Their joy was short lived, however, when the door burst open to reveal the tribute from District 2 holding two swords that were dazzling under the sun. “Just like Krum said.” She chuckled, rolling her wrists, the swords whirling dangerously. “You three are  _screwed_.”

“Like hell we are.” Ron growled, throwing can after can of food at her.

As she ducked, Harry tackled her to the ground. Hermione ran after him, kicking one of the swords out of the girl’s hands. “KRUM!” She shrieked while sending her knee into Harry’s gut and pushing him off of her. “WE’VE GOT GUESTS!”

“Ron! Pack it up, we’re leaving!” Hermione called over her shoulder as the girl – Angelina, Hermione noted in her head – got back on her feet. Harry had his hands up, axe and pack left in the house while Hermione held her axe up against the sword. All three of them had to squint under the glare of the sun. Hermione worried about Harry’s eyesight in this fight.

Angelina lunged towards Harry and Hermione did the same only to have her laugh at her face, taunting her with the sword in her hand. “You have to be faster than that, 7.” She said then came straight at her. Hermione managed to deflect the sword with the handle of her axe but got a hard kick on the shin. Hermione fell, crying out and chastised herself for not anticipating it. She bit hard on the inside of her mouth, willing the pain to leave her and waiting for a fatal blow.

There was a clash of metal and she pushed herself up with her axe. Harry had picked up Angelina’s other sword. “Are you sure you know how to use that, kid?” She teased as she sliced a wide horizontal arc that Harry dodged.

“I use the pointy end, right?” Harry retorted, thrusting the sword at Angelina, only to have it blocked.

Hermione, putting as little weight as possible on her left leg until the pain subsided, limped to Angelina’s blind spot, swinging her axe with a grunt. She hoped to cut her head off but instead sliced through air. Angelina righted herself in a defensive stance. “I do like my threesomes.”

“Angelina?!” A voice from nearby shouted.

“Here!” She replied. Harry nodded at Hermione, glaring pointedly at Angelina and Hermione understood. The two of them came at her at the same time. As Angelina dodged Hermione’s axe, Harry knocked the sword out of her hand and put his against her neck. There was a second where Hermione saw Harry hesitate sliding the sword clear across Angelina’s neck. Hermione was about to do it for him with an axe to her chest.

“Hermione! Dive!” Ron shouted as he threw the bag at Harry and Angelina. Hermione, taken by surprise, threw herself at a random direction, clumsily hitting the wall of the house across the one they were in. An arrow whizzed by and three Careers stood at the end of the lane of houses. Hermione’s insides contracted. Her heart raced underneath an invisible grip.  _Four Careers_ , she thought, then all of the swear words she knew came rushing as Ron shouted at her. “Let’s go! Let’s go!” She pushed herself off the wall and hitched her pack higher on her shoulders.

There was a clatter of metal and a grunt of pain from Harry. Hermione reflexively kicked a rising Angelina down, picking up the tossed bag with her free hand. Ron dodged a few arrows as he dragged Harry up by the arm. “We’ll fix that nose later, I swear, but we have to go!” Harry nodded, clutching his nose. Hermione kicked Angelina in the face, fat flecks of blood appearing on the ground. As Angelina swore at her,Hermione decided to run as fast as she could with Careers roaring after her.

They wove their way past the houses, arrows and shouts from two boys followed them. Hermione got separated from Harry and Ron for a long, stressful minute. Every house felt like they hid a Career. Scenarios of her getting thrown to the ground, the weight of all she carried causing her demise felt all too real at each step that every time she wasn’t attacked, she ran faster.

When she finally reached the tree line, Ron’s red hair caught her eye and she ran towards him. Her arms and legs felt like they were working on their own accord and she was along for the ride. Hermione chanced a look over her shoulder and saw no one coming after them. Her run slowed to a jog. “Ro –” She gasped. “Ron!” Hermione’s arms gave up on the heavy pack and the axe.  Her knees kept her weight up long enough for her to lean on the nearest tree. “Safe!” She shouted after another gasp. She watched as Ron and Harry skidded to a stop before they walked to her.

As soon as they were close proximity, Harry and Ron dropped to the ground then rolled over, facing the sky. “That was intense.” Ron commented. Hermione nodded, wiping the rivers of sweat that poured from her head, chest, and pits though none of her efforts made her any dryer. “Did you see how Hermione kicked that Career? I can almost hear my family cheer.” He said.

“Twice.” Hermione said, swelling with pride at the recognition. It seemed to squash the anxiety she felt when she saw the Careers advancing towards her. She had a chance to hurt one of them and came out with minor bruising. She wished that counted for something when it came to sponsorship.

“ _Sweet_!” Ron wheezed. Harry laughed then clutched his nose with an agonized groan. “We should celebrate. I got a  _ton_  of sausages.”

“Stop making me laugh.” He said, hitting Ron on the chest with the back of his hand.

Slowly, Hermione noticed a stinging sensation on her arm. When she turned it, she held back a gasp as the pain multiplied. “I got hit.” She hissed, assessing the cut. Harry struggled to push himself up and Ron rolled over to see. “I can patch this up easy, don’t worry.” She said, waving Harry away.

“Your bag got the worst of it.” Ron pointed out and Hermione saw three arrows jutting out her pack. A two were close to the top and one at the bottom. The first two hit the cans she fitted into her pack, the third one punctured a canteen of water but it was better than her leg.


	5. It's Going Down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione has a plan to even the playing field.

Supplies counted, breath caught, and injuries mended to the best of their circumstances, they prepared the most decent dinner they’d had since entering the arena. With a makeshift pan in the form of a thin piece of stone Hermione found while looking for firewood, they had a steaming meal of corned beef and sausages. They celebrated living another day, not that it was something to truly celebrate, Hermione thought. Then she figured, since nice things were so very limited now, she had to take whatever was left. Follow Luna and Ron’s advice. But in the midst of their lively anecdotes, Hermione was thinking of ways to take a few Careers out of the Games so she could feel an illusion of safety when she left the boys.

No matter how many times she thought in certainties instead of possibilities about abandoning Harry and Ron, she remained uneasy. 

In a satisfied silence arrived once most of what they prepared was eaten. Only Ron had space left in his stomach. The axe turned in Hermione’s hand twice before she spoke up – she needed to sharpen it. She considered that not a lot of time passed since their last story from outside the arena, the one where Ron and his brothers would play a modified game of hide and seek with cow manure. But this plan needed to start as soon as possible for it to work. “I’ve got a plan to take down a couple of Careers.”

Ron stopped mid-chew to stare at her then swallowed. “Hermione, why’d you gotta bring down the mood? I don’t want to talk about the Careers or the Games in a full stomach.”

Harry smirked but it disappeared once Hermione shot him a look.

“Do you want an even playing field or not?” She asked Ron tightly.

“Depends? How even are we talking about?” Hermione was about to reply when Ron added, “Also, will I have to get up early in the morning to do this?”

In all her life, Hermione hadn’t had the chance to roll her eyes too far back behind her head until Ron Weasley happened to her. “You’re insufferable.”

“You are too, Granger.” Ron replied with a pleasant smile. She huffed and he said, “Let’s hear it, then.”

On the one hand, she could swing the axe and be done with him. On the other, she didn’t want to be the one to kill him without substantial provocation and she was sure Harry wouldn’t appreciate it. With a sigh and a twist of her axe, she said, “It involves bait.”

“ _Loving_ this already.” Ron announced sarcastically.

There were no other interruptions as Hermione hashed out her plan involving the trees and the axes. Harry and Ron had no other means of taking on and taking out some Careers without putting them in deepest danger. It wasn’t to say Hermione’s idea was perfectly thought out, she was first to admit it, but it was their most viable plan of attack without any outside help – rope would be useful but Hermione doubted anyone thought she was a threat compared to the Careers.

By dawn, the trio sought an area dense with trees and started cutting until they were swaying precariously. There were a couple of trees that fell after a miscalculated swing or a surprising breeze. Hermione worried that they would call attention to themselves but the only other tribute who saw them was Luna. Even then, she was already a fading blur of blonde when Hermione caught sight of her. As Harry and Hermione chopped, Ron traced routes from the Cornucopia to the trap they were setting up. When he came back, Ron reported that the Careers weren't anywhere near the Cornucopia, which was strange. Hermione almost forgot how many tributes were left but she sure it was just the Careers, their trio, and Luna. 

Had the Careers decided to go their separate ways? Did they have a big duel as to who was going to take hold of the Cornucopia and they were nursing their wounds? Hermione could only hope. Since no Career had reached their site, Hermione was somewhat optimistic. Then again, they could just be waiting for the right time to strike. To use the trap against the three of them. To kill them in their sleep. The number of ways it could go wrong joined the number of ways this could go right. 

Hermione focused on chopping, tying her dirty mop of curls with cloth from her clothes. 

They worked until it was too dark to see, managing to squeeze in two more trees in the presence of a fire then started up again as soon as the sun was rising. It didn’t take as long as Hermione thought it would, especially with the help of Ron, and there were five accidental fallen trees, two of which fell on one another – an example of how Hermione’s plan was going to unfold.  _At least,_ Hermione thought as they waited for an attack from anyone who heard the trees fall,  _we know they’re heavy enough to throw each other down._

When they reached the two trees that would, theoretically, start the domino of trees to fall on the Careers, Hermione stared up at them as Harry and Ron made their initial chops. She cradled her aching arms and wondered how they were going to tip them over and not have their opponents catch up with them. Sure, they could have two left behind and one to draw the Careers in but just one tribute wouldn’t warrant the lot of them so it had to be all three of them – the group no one thought would survive to see the finale.

Just as Hermione was about to voice her concern, a soft beeping noise came from above. A box tied to a parachute was falling towards her and she raised her hands up to catch it, saying, “Look.” Ron and Harry stopped chopping. Hermione put the box on the ground. Her hands were shaking a little when it registered that someone spent money for her in hopes that she would win – an instant, and surprising, confidence boost on her part. For a moment, she felt like she could do anything. Then, she squashed that feeling down because she was sure it would lead to her downfall.

“Wicked, you have a sponsor!” Ron gasped, rushing to her side, drenched in sweat. Harry stood a few steps away. “Open it.” Ron said.

“It’s rope.” Hermione said, taking out the contents of the box, grinning. “Perfect. This is just so  _perfect_.”

"All that complaining finally paid off, huh, Ron?" Harry nudged Ron's shoulder with his. Ron snorted, shaking his head. 

The trap, Hermione believed, had a good chance of working. Not perfect, not even great, but good was good enough for her. All she had to hope now was for no one to disturb this place before they could get the Careers into it.

“Ready?” Harry asked once their bags were safely beyond the trap, ready to get picked up when they set it.

Hermione tossed him his axe and she pocketed the rock she was using to give them a quick sharpening as she said, “As I’ll ever be.”

“Let’s go before it gets dark.” Ron announced. Harry tilted his head to Ron’s direction, smiling, and Hermione let herself think that they were on their usual hikes down to the lake.

Hermione’s insides were uneasy the closer they got to the town area. It was too quiet for her tastes. All the animals were gone and their conversations died down no more than five minutes into the walk. The only sounds she could hear were their breathing and the thump of an axe cutting into a tree to mark their way. She ran through all possible scenarios and formed contingencies. She thought of arrows and how to dodge them. She thought of the rope snapping. She thought of the trees not falling the way she wanted them to fall. She wondered if she could run as fast as she could. Then she pictured her death. Hopefully it wasn’t at the hands of that girl, Angelina. She would most definitely make it hurt before ending it.

Before they reached the town, there was a scream. “CEDRIC!” Hermione cut into one last tree before she nodded to the direction of the screaming. “I  _swear to God_ , Cormac if you had anything to do with this, I will end you!”

“That’s nearby.” Harry breathed, raising his axe and pointing to the direction of the cries for help and threats of bodily harm.

It wasn’t long until they saw Fleur up in the air, trapped in a net. Harry, Hermione, and Ron looked to each other – this wasn’t part of the plan. Hermione wondered, as they crouched behind a pair of adjacent trees, if the odds were in their favor this time - were her hopes of them already fighting be true? 

Ron shifted. “Might as well while she's up there...” He suggested. 

Ron took a step forward but Hermione stuck her arm out. Luna popped up from beneath a dry bush, holding up a dagger. “ _You?_  Seriously?! God this is embarrassing.” Fleur groaned, slumping in her net.

“Weren’t you looking for me since yesterday?” Luna asked. “I thought you’d be glad to see me.” Hermione’s eyebrows rose. No wonder the Careers never found their huge trap, they were tracking Luna.

“Yeah, but we thought you’d be with the others.” Fleur scoffed. “But you’re not so we’ve been following you around for nothing.  _Knew_  I should’ve scouted with them but  _no_! Idiots.” Luna glanced straight at Hermione, startling her. With a subtle nod, she saw Luna smile a bit.

“I’d be okay if it was that District 7 girl but really? You?” Luna had the tip of the dagger between two fingers. “This is  _so_ not the way I wanted to die.” Fleur whined.

If Luna was in any way insulted, she didn’t show it. Hermione was more surprised by how steady she held her dagger. “We never choose the way we die.” Luna said conversationally, closing one eye. “Now hold still, I’ll try to make it as fast as possible.”

“CEDRIC!” Fleur shrieked.

Before Luna could let go of the dagger, an arrow embedded itself into her chest, followed by another one. She fell, eyes wide, and the cannon fire came as it happened. Luna laid limp, hair covering all her face except for one eye that seemed to stare at Hermione. She gulped, now dreading the moment they had to show themselves.

“I was about to get taken out by someone from  _District 3 -_  what  _took you so long_?!” Fleur demanded.

“Can’t we just leave her up there?” A large boy, Cormac, sighed, twirling his sword.

“Screw you! It’s your fault I’m here in the first place!” Fleur scowled. “She was  _alone_. 7 and 10 weren’t with her.” Cormac glared at her and cut the rope holding her up. She screamed but was then cut off when boy from District 2, Krum, caught the rope and let her down gently. “I’ll kill you.” Fleur told Cormac, who blew her a kiss.

“So no curly haired freak who isn’t Romilda?” Angelina, who had a large bruise on her face as well as a deformed nose, appeared. “No offense.” She told Krum, who didn’t look like he cared. Her hold on her bow and arrow slackened when she realized there was no one else to attack.

“No, because you’re a bad tracker.” Suddenly, the arrow was tense against the bow again.

Harry’s hand curled around her shoulder and he whispered, “Company behind us.” Hermione turned her head and she saw the girl from District 1, Romilda, coming towards them with a dagger.

Having been spotted, she shouted, “THEY’RE HERE!” Ron pointed his arrow Romilda.

Hermione faced the other Careers who were now looking right at them. Hermione froze, biting back a scream. Cedric handed Fleur her spear back. Cormac and Krum were staring like they were pieces of meat. Angelina raised her bow and arrow, smiling. “District 7 is  _mine_.” She tried chasing away the images of her death.  The axe in her hands didn’t provide as much comfort as it did before all six Careers were in front of her,  _surrounding_ her. Hermione's chest tightened around her straining heart. She wanted to vomit. 

Ron stood with his back against the tree, eyes trained at Romilda. Harry stood too, making Hermione follow. She looked at Ron then at Harry. Her heart was thundering inside of her. She realized she wasn’t breathing so she took a deep breath before she ran right at the girl from District 1, flinging her axe at her. The girl dove out of its way. Ron and Harry ran after her.

Hermione tried her best to follow the trail they left but she was afraid she was running in a random direction. She was afraid she was going to run into a tree if she even tried to catch a glimpse of Ron or Harry. All her focus went to putting one foot in front of the other, breathing, and the trees that had notches on them.  She could hear their pursuers shouting at them but she didn’t care to listen, she was too preoccupied with staying alive longer than them. Her whole torso began to hurt in the minute they began running but she couldn't let this deter her. 

Ron’s red hair appeared at the corner of her eye. He turned, shooting a few arrows of his own before he ran again. “Over here, meat heads!” He shouted, whether at her and Harry or the Careers, Hermione couldn’t tell, but at least there was some direction.

Hermione followed him as he ran left only to have an arrow rush across her face, making her scream. Someone, Angelina probably, cackled. During her pause, Hermione saw them advancing, Cedric had his spear up and Harry had to shove her to get her moving again.

“We need to catch up with Ron.” Harry managed to say between deep breaths as they climbed over one of the trees that fell when they setting up the trap.

Hermione didn’t think she could run any faster but after she felt another arrow rush just above her ear and lodging itself into the tree ahead of her, she had to. She cut through the land diagonally, hoping to avoid Angelina’s arrows. Ron was closer now and he was slowing down. He emptied his quiver before he bent down to pick up the rope. Hermione skidded to a stop beside him and immediately grabbed a section of rope. Harry did the same. They were all out of breath and Hermione knew the Careers weren’t far behind. She looked over her shoulder the moment a spear landed on the ground a few inches away from them. Most of them were already leaping over the fallen tree with a single bound.

“Pull!” She screamed, feeling lightheaded when she saw all of them right in the middle of the trap. With all the remaining energy she had, she tugged as the boys tugged.

The breathlessness caught up with her, the edges of her vision turning blurry. Her legs felt weak. Then there was a satisfying snap that made Hermione shake it off, wanting to yell timber at the top of her burning lungs but they didn’t need or deserve the warning. The first tree hit the other and there was another snap. She dropped the limp rope and ran again, this time with Ron and Harry behind her.

Hermione felt the ground shake with an accompanying crash as wood met soil. She heard Ron laugh, making her want to laugh if only she had the air.

“WHAT THE HELL?!”

“GO BACK! GO BACK!”

 _It worked!_ Her thoughts cheered. Then, after another loud thud, there was a cannon and Hermione found it in herself to howl in victory, unable to help it. She stopped, lungs heaving, legs wobbling, sweat plastering her hair to her face and dampening her skin. Ron and Harry rushed past her. She knew she should follow them but she just  _had_  to admire her work. Some fell the other way but most of the trees were crisscrossed over each other. Two more trees were in the process of falling and there was a shrill scream before it was cut off by a thud and a cannon blast. Then there was silence. She was too far to see who it was that the tree hit but she didn’t care. It worked. There were trees on top of trees on top of trees. There were two dead Careers. In the seconds leading up to it, Hermione was afraid the trees wouldn’t fall the right way and her blood would cover the ground she was standing on.  _But here I am._

“You’re looking way too happy.” Ron chuckled with her bag in his hand. Her smile dwindled as she took her bag. She’d been too preoccupied with the satisfaction of her trap working that it was only then she realized that her trap ended two lives. Two families just lost their kids and it was her doing. They couldn’t really blame her, right? She only did what was asked of her. The victory wasn’t as sweet as she originally thought. Instead of cheers, there were accusatory voices of imaginary parents.

“Let’s just go.” She said, unable to look at the trees any longer.

“I didn’t mean –”

“No, I know. C’mon, before they start another chase. They won't stay down long.” She started jogging, unable to shake the guilt that found its way to her head. She thought she’d be able to handle the thought of killing someone, but now, she was bothered down to her core. It didn’t settle right with her. She wondered what Panem thought of her now? Surely they knew about it. She wondered if her parents were proud of her or thought she was a murderer. She was faced with the reality that there were still six other tributes left, two of whom were her friends. She either had to kill them or they kill her. Hermione came to the dizzying conclusion that she had one trap to hide behind. She had to kill them directly this time, there was no way to cushion this fact and that made her want to cry.

But Hermione treaded on. She couldn’t show weakness now. She had to keep up the good work in case more sponsors decided to go her way. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did anyone else notice the subtle pun? Yes? No? Fuck you, Joey? Leave it in the comments, maybe is the new call me maybe.


	6. Popping the Cherry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione does something on her own.

Throughout the night, Hermione pretended. She pretended that she was listening to what they were saying. She pretended to laugh and pretended that she was tired when Harry asked her if anything was wrong. Trying her best to pretend that everything was fine was difficult when she knew Harry could probably see right through it. He didn’t bring it up until Ron fell asleep right after their victory meal.

“Tell me what’s wrong, Hermione.” He said once they put the fire out.

Hermione paused, thinking about the kind of response she should give. An honest one would make her seem weak while telling him that the last couple of days caught up with her, which it really did in a way, would still make her seem like she wouldn’t last the following days. The longer she pondered, the more questionable her answer, so before the silence grew too long, she said, “I’m just thinking about the other Careers, if they’re looking for us right now. A trap like that could cause a grudge, especially with how arrogant they are. They won’t like being tricked.” It was as close to the truth as she could get. Harry glanced over his shoulder into the darkness, waiting for their competitors to jump out and murder them though nothing came.

“We’ll be fine.” Harry whispered. Hermione wasn’t too sure about how long that would last. She wanted to ask Harry about the possibility of killing each other in the end but she couldn’t bring herself to. To be so close to the end, so close to going home, Hermione knew she could no longer afford to see him or Ron as friends.

“I hope we’ll be.” And that was her apology for what she was planning.

Harry took the first watch, giving Hermione enough time to rest. She didn’t think she could fall asleep, thinking about what she was about to do, but the moment her head hit the ground, she was out like a light. She didn’t even wake up for the anthem.

Ron woke her up as the sky was turning a light gray. They didn’t talk much except greet each other a good morning, Ron telling her that Cedric and Romilda were gone, and agreeing that she would wake them up in two hours. Hermione chose to nod instead of speak, hiding her face by rubbing her eyes with both of her hands. Ron went to sleep with no assurance of waking up because the moment he started to snort was the moment Hermione forced herself to her feet, took a bag and an axe, and left them hoping the Careers would take them or her. As long as she didn’t have to be the one to kill Harry or Ron, she would be contented.

Hermione wound a path through the forest, finding solace inside a tree when the sun became unbearable at noon. There she let the tears loose, all the fear and the frustration came in waves. She buried her face into her knees without so much as a sob, praying for a miracle, praying that this was all a dream, praying to never see Harry or Ron ever again. She wallowed in the idea that the two boys hated her now since the morning proved to be uneventful. No cannons. No run-ins. She remembered getting lost in the woods behind her house once and this was just like that except the probability of a painful death was realer. She resented the fact that if they weren’t reaped, she and Harry could’ve gone on with their lives without the Games complicating it.  _One year_ , she thought,  _one more year and we could’ve just been like our parents._

Although the tears were gone, Hermione stayed in the tree to let herself hate everything, even herself, and did nothing else for the next couple of hours.

Once she put herself together sturdily, repeating “go home” to motivate herself, Hermione walked out of the tree. She didn’t get to five steps before something tackled her to the ground. A thick hand turned her over and the hand went around her neck. Pressure appeared on her chest then began digging into her sternum, making her squeak and open her eyes to meet Cormac’s.

“I’m going to have  _so much fun_  killing you, you piss-poor bitch.” He hissed as he tried to strangle her. Hermione clawed at his hand, panicking when she couldn’t reach for her axe and when Cormac started twisting a hole into her chest with his knee. She tried flailing her arms and legs, hoping to swat him off somehow but when his grip left her neck and she was able to gasp, a blow hit her on the cheek. While her ears rung and her vision blurred, Cormac was strangling her again. The entire left side of her face felt shattered. She almost resigned herself to die – this was what she wanted, wasn’t it?

Then she saw his arm in a sling made out of his shirt. Cormac shrieked when she squeezed it though his hold didn’t falter until she gave it a quick twist. Cormac was off her in a second.

As he cradled his hand, cursing her with every cuss word in his vocabulary, Hermione struggled to breathe. She dragged herself to her axe only to have it kicked away and she rolled to the opposite direction before Cormac could pin her down again.

She heaved herself up the same time Cormac did. “I might not have both of my hands but I could take you down just as easily.” He growled, taking a few steps towards her.

Hermione tightened her jaw, noting every move he made so she could counter them. Despite his burly exterior, Cormac was tactical, choosing his steps now that he didn’t have the advantage of surprise and Hermione saw his glaring weakness. Hermione tried running for her axe but he proved just as fast as she was. She couldn’t even trick him into circling the area so she could get to it. They went left and right like a stupid dance children made to a terrible tune, making the bruise on her face throb.

She hated this stalemate.

“Abandoned by your buddies, huh?” She taunted despite the pain talking caused, nodding to his broken arm. “It must suck to be a liability all of a sudden.”

Cormac glared. “I can say the same thing to you. Did your boyfriends decide to profess their love for each other?”

She ignored it. “You know, I came up with the tree idea. I wish I could’ve seen the look on your faces when it all came tumbling down.”

“I know what you’re doing.” He growled.

“How does it feel, 1?” Hermione continued, undeterred. It was the only plan she had that didn’t involve going for her axe anyway without Cormac right on top of her again. “How does it feel to have a girl from one of the ‘lesser Districts’ kill two of you ‘deadly’ Careers? How does it feel to be helpless?”

“Shut up.” He took a step forward and Hermione’s heartbeat quickened though she didn’t let it show. “I am not  _helpless_ , District trash!”

“Of course you are. You became helpless the moment you lost control of both of your hands. I bet they tried to kill you as soon as they saw you were broken. Why couldn’t you just accept defeat and let yourself die? Surely you know you won’t win these Games.” She laughed and surprised herself at how convincing she sounded.

“At least I’ll get to kill you.” He spat.

“I’d like to see you try with that arm of yours, 1.” She retorted and he whirled around, running for her axe. She hadn’t considered that.

She ran after him, jumping on his back the same moment his hand went around the axe’s handle. Cormac fell on his injured side with an agonized moan that reached across the forest. Hermione kicked his shoulder for good measure and he started to scream. She stepped on the hand that was still reaching for the axe as she grabbed it for herself. With a deep, steadying breath, Hermione gripped the handle with two hands, raised it above her head, and slammed it deep into Cormac’s back. As soon as the metal hit his naked skin, his screams were cut off in a squeak, followed by the sound of cannon fire.

Hermione backed away, feeling the blood spatter on her face, trembling at the finality of her act. She’d killed. The body in front of her with the axe sticking out of it was because of her. Everyone in the 12 Districts saw it, even her family. She grabbed her axe out of Cormac and her bag a few steps away and ran as fast as she could. She didn’t want to be around the body any longer than necessary nor did she want to see the hovercraft carry it into the clouds.

She tried to reason with herself later on. Cormac was going to kill her. She needed to go home and her parents would understand that she had to do what she had to do. Even District 1 would understand; they  _trained_  their children for the Hunger Games. They expected deaths from time to time, didn’t they? Did they expect Cormac was going to win with that arm of his? Did they expect anything else from a girl who so desperately wanted to go home?

Her parents would understand. They hated the Games, never the Victor. Though she wasn’t certain how they would treat her after that. Even she didn’t feel like she owned her body, she couldn’t erase the sickening wrongness under her skin, like Cormac’s blood seeped into her, tainting her. If this was how it felt to kill a stranger whose violent intentions were obvious, she didn’t want to find out what it would feel like to kill Harry or Ron.

Hermione ran until her legs gave up on her and her heart was straining to keep her alive. She dragged her axe across the grass in a futile attempt to clean it since she knew she couldn’t afford to leave it behind, not when she was so close to finishing the Games.

She considered using the water in her canteen but just as she was about to pour, she hesitated. Water was hard to come by in these games and judging by the afternoon’s heat, she needed to conserve what she had.  _The river._  She thought after a long gulp of water, hissing softly as she touched her tender cheek, then stood.

Hermione spent the whole afternoon searching for the river that when she saw the banks, she ran to it, eager to clean her axe.

“Oh no.” She breathed, looking down at the cracked river bed and dry stones. Desperate, she climbed down the banks, searching for the tiniest trickle of water but to no avail. She held up her axe, her insides twisting when the dried blood registered. Hermione wanted to cry.

The sun was dipping on the horizon and Hermione wasted no time collecting herself, seeking shelter on the other side of the dried up river. Darkness was catching up on her fast when she found a dip in the ground underneath a tree.

Beside herself, Hermione took out her canteen and cut a sleeve from her jacket to wash the axe. She tried to use as little as possible but even then she was down a canteen and she only had one more left.

With the last of the light, she uprooted a bush several feet away and dragged it to her hole, making it look as inconspicuous as possible. As she curled into a ball, lying on her uninjured cheek, Hermione wished she could stay here until everyone else died though she knew at some point the Gamemakers would try to drive her out with the rest of them. Aside from her encounter with Cormac, she wasn’t sure how exciting the Games were, making it almost impossible to sleep. She stayed awake long after the anthem, trying not to move or make a sound in case someone was near. Her stomach growled loudly and she curled into a tighter ball, begging her mind to stay quiet long enough for her to rest.

That didn’t happen for another hour.

Hermione woke up with a panic, unsure where she was until she hit the roots with her forehead, hissing in pain. Her cheek throbbed after having turned to the other side in her sleep. The air was thick with heat; she was drenched in her own sweat. She reached for a canteen and drank gingerly, stopping when she heard voices approaching.

“We can still see you!” A man, Krum, shouted. Hermione clutched her axe and dug as far as she could go in her hole. She closed her eyes tight then decided against it. She needed to be vigilant, to strike as soon as someone lifted her bush.

“You can’t run forever!” A woman’s voice, Fleur’s, added.

“Ron! This way!  _This way_!” Harry’s voice came just above her, causing her to gasp which she stifled immediately.

“Alright, alright!” Ron groaned and their footsteps stomped away followed by a couple more just seconds later. There was more taunting and shouting, echoing for what seemed to be an eternity until it was silent again but Hermione counted to two hundred before breathing again.

Hermione had no way to tell time but from the feel of it, she guessed it was around noon. She didn’t dare go out under the sun with the scarcity of water. _Would it be possible_ , she wondered,  _that all of them don’t have as much water as I do and that they’ll die of dehydration earlier than me?_  She liked to think about it because it meant she didn’t really have to kill anyone else but she knew that they were going to be forced back together.

That possibility grew when hours later there were no cannon fires.

Before nightfall, Hermione was out of water and she was still sweating bullets from the heat, being under a tree didn’t help much when it came to keeping cool. She was attempting to sleep to escape her thirst just for a little while when suddenly the sound of trumpets filled the air.

“Tributes, since you have worked so hard to get this far in the Games, we would like to give you a token – a feast!” Bellatrix Lestrange’s voice shook Hermione awake, her stomach growling. “Not only will there be hot, steaming food, but there will be a glistening jar of water!”

Hermione knew she shouldn’t even bother. She knew that if she went there, the remaining Careers would murder her the moment they see her, especially Angelina. She could also see Harry and Ron again and the last thing she wanted to have was a reunion. Hermione stayed long enough for her stomach acid to start burning through her digestive system. Her parched throat irritated her, asking her for the smallest drop of water. She tried her best to ignore these urges until she realized she could get the leftovers in those houses near the Cornucopia! There might not be any water but surely those cans of meat had enough juice to get her through one more night!

With renewed vigor, Hermione climbed out her hole and hurried to the Cornucopia before it was too dark for her to see but once it happened, she had no choice but to sit and wait for the first sign of light.

Hermione stayed awake, clutching her axe against her chest and trying to keep herself from going forward blindly just to get something in her mouth. The forest was dead silent, just dark on the left and dark on the right, making her wonder if death was anything like this.  _If it is, then I have more reason to stay alive._  Her anticipation made her heart beat faster and she tried to calm it down in case someone actually heard it. In the never ending darkness, Hermione felt time drag itself to the next minute and her hunger and thirst didn’t help make the waiting comfortable. As much as she wanted to distract herself with thoughts of home, it always ended with her thinking she might die in the next couple of hours or even in the next five minutes. Then she would think about Cormac and the sound of his scream being cut short by her axe.


	7. Season Finale

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Capitol's feasts brings the tributes to the yard. And they're like, "We're all gonna die". Damn right you're all gonna die.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for that summary

This feast could not come sooner.

When Hermione was about to nod off, a blinking light appeared, followed by a few others. Then there was a flash of light in the distance. She could hear a hovercraft’s hum behind the brightness as she stood, eyes adjusting. Hermione ran towards the light, even after the hum disappeared into the night. As she neared the illuminated Cornucopia, she could see silhouettes climbing the stone steps towards the feast.

She ran to the square houses as the beginnings of a fight brewed atop the pantheon. With each step she took, the more aggressive the fight became. Shouting. Metal clashing. An arrow shooting through the air. “Ron!”

For a second, Hermione stopped, But when there was no cannon, she ran again.

As she searched each house for something to steal, hoping that she didn’t make a mistake and that she should’ve stayed in her hole, a loud screech pierced the air. Though there were no sounds of cannons, there was a distinct buzzing sound. The moment she heard the chorus of screams, Hermione lost no time locking herself in a house. First the door then the windows. She hid in a darkened corner of the house as the buzzing grew all over the house. Suddenly, all the light was gone and she dare not peek when she already knew – tracker jackers surrounded her.

The sound of cannon filled the air but it was almost drowned by the collective buzz of what seemed to be a million tracker jackers. Hermione’s heart pounded, remembering that one time she saw a tracker jacker nest burst open from afar when her father decided it was a good idea to bring her to work. The sounds of those poor men’s screams came back to her in full force. The buzz grew violent and she wanted to scream as she covered her head with her backpack and the remnants of her jacket, ignoring the pain that radiated from her cheek. There was another cannon fire but she could barely hear it through the buzzing. A part of her regretted leaving and coming for the feast but a larger, more logical part of her made it clear that if she’d stayed, she would’ve been subjected to the stings before all the others.

They stayed for hours. Instead of food or water, Hermione wished she could knock herself out or kill herself when she couldn’t do anything except keep her eyes wide open, awaiting for a certain and painful death through stings. She focused on breathing deeply. The worst thing she could do now was panic. Panicking meant making rash decisions and rash decisions were stupid decisions that would get her killed. She focused on happy thoughts, of home, of the past, of climbing trees, of her mom’s lullabies, of hot chocolate for special occasions. She pictured them with as much detail as possible, sharpening them with every slow breath. Hermione was determined not to let the Gamemarkes’ strategy to break her.

When Hermione was picturing the creak that she frequented to be alone, her throat itching at the image of water, the volume of the buzzing decreased. Moments later, light streamed into the house she hid in and she uncovered her ears. Her muscles were cramped after staying on the floor in the same position for hours. As she picked up her axe, she thought about walking out of the house. Would there me more tracker jackers waiting outside? Was she in any condition to fend for herself? Would the remaining tributes kill each other in a few minutes? If so, could she stay inside this house until they do?

Most importantly, were the two dead tributes Harry and Ron? That information would be useful if she decided to go out.

Hermione took the time to take her daggers out of her bag and putting them in easy to reach places then pressed her ear against the door, listening for any kind of activity other than her own stomach growling. She gripped her axe tight with one hand and twisted the knob with the other, flinging it open.

No one.

She blew a sigh out of relief then slowly crept out of the house.

The clouds hadn’t parted for the sun, casting a gray light on the small village. Hermione kept her back against the wall as she stepped to the corner, waiting for any sound. Her insides twisted with anxiety, wishing she knew who she still had to kill to win and wishing it wasn’t Harry or Ron.

 _Can I even dare…?_ She asked herself, turning the axe in her hands. It’d be better if they were dead, even if she had to face the three remaining Careers in this finale.

Then there was a creak of a door, a few heavy steps coming closer and closer. Hermione wanted to jump out and swing her axe but she was glued against the wall, the memories of Cormac’s blood flashing behind her eyes. She wanted to do it but at the same time she didn’t. She should’ve stayed in the house but there was no going back anymore. If she was committed to winning, she should be committed to every means necessary. Hermione stepped away from the wall and turned the corner the same time Krum faced her direction with a spear in his hands. They stared at each other for a long time, Hermione boldly stepping towards him with her axe at the ready.  Krum wasn’t cocky like the others, moving with determination and a murderous scowl.  She was as good as dead.

Hermione turned tail and ran away before Krum could raise his spear. She forced herself to put as much distance as she could while she formulated a plan.

Once upon a time, Harry told her she was very good at multitasking but she wasn’t sure how true that was until now. She glanced over her shoulder, seeing Krum a few meters behind her. She turned to a different row of houses on her left and Krum followed. She took out a dagger and threw it at his direction as soon as she saw him. He dodged it and raised his spear, throwing it at her. Though she screamed, a split second drop to the ground kept her alive. Hermione scrambled up to her feet and kicked the spear away. She brandished her axe as she stood in the way of Krum and his spear. Although the desired reaction was him backing away, Krum glared at her, staying in place.

“Do you think I couldn’t knock that out of your hands and kill you with it, girl?” He asked.

Hermione gulped, holding her axe tighter and getting ready to throw it. “Prove it.” She hated herself for saying it. Krum ran towards her and she let the axe fly out of her hands with as much strength as she could manage to put behind it – a very desperate move, Hermione thought and regretted it. She felt her heart beat with every whirl of the weapon. She knew Krum would most likely dodge a bulky weapon like that but if she could get to her dagger on time, maybe she could stab him before he got his hands on her.

She gripped her dagger she tucked at the back of her pants and, as expected, Krum tucked into a flawless roll to avoid her axe. This was it, the moment Hermione was dreading and hoping she didn’t have to experience ever again. As Krum continued his run like he wasn’t on the ground a second ago, Hermione drew her dagger and thrust it in front of her, not noticing what was happening behind her assailant. He twisted the dagger out of her hands before it even pierced the fabric of his clothes, causing Hermione to yowl as her wrist throbbed. Krum raised his fist and then paused, blood trickling out of his mouth. He coughed, spraying her with it and she tried not to breathe.

_Boom._

Hermione scrambled away, afraid that it might be Angelina or Fleur, forgetting about her injured wrist until she was cradling it without even moving a few inches. There was no way she could fight, she realized shamefully, so there was nothing left to do but get up on her weak legs and run. If she still had the energy, which even she doubted.

“Hermione,” croaked a voice when she was about to break into a sprint. She whirled around and there was Harry with a busted lip and a few cuts on his face, clutching his side and dropping the bloody sword on to the ground.

“Harry.” She gasped, running to him and catching him before he fell. “Harry.” Tears began spilling out when she noticed how pale he was and how shallow his breathing. “Oh, Harry.” When she sat on the ground, putting him on her lap, she noticed the wound on his side. “Who –”

“Don’t worry about it.” He muttered. “Please.”

“Don’t tell me not to worry. You’re my best friend, I’m going to worry.” She said, frantically searching for anything to – she saw it. Lying there a few feet away. “Oh.”

“Hermione –”

“Oh  _God._ ” Hermione began shaking with tears she couldn’t control any longer. A short distance away was her axe which found a mark despite Krum’s dodge. It was covered in fresh blood. Blood that was spilling right in front of her. Her entire body was growing hot and chest felt like it was about to explode. “Harry, I’m so sorry.  _I’m so, so sorry_!” How could she be so careless? How could she do this to her best friend?! How was she ever going to face James and Lily now if she ever won? How could she continue living when she knew it was her fault Harry was going to die?

As Hermione sobbed over Harry’s face, Harry held one of her hands. “Hermione. It’s okay. If anyone’s going to win this, it’s going to be you.”

“But – but –!” She hiccupped.

“It was an accident. Krum, he –” Harry groaned, bleeding out hurt more than he expected. “Doesn’t matter. Accidents are never your fault, you didn’t know.”

“I  _should have known_!” She wailed. “Harry, I can’t live with myself knowing…knowing this!”

“You have to.” He said with a smile. “Don’t let them destroy you. Like I said when we were kids, you were born to do great things with that head of yours. It’ll be a shame if you let this stop you from doing just that.”

“Harry?” Another familiar voice was near. Hermione’s heart stopped and a new wave of tears wracked her tired body. “Harry? Harry! Hermione! Harry!” Ron ran to them, dropping his bow and arrow, kneeling before their dying friend. “Oh my God, what happened?!”

“Does it really matter, Ronald?” Harry managed a weak smile and patted his knee. “I wish –”

“Shut up.” Ron growled as tears started to prick behind his eyes, reminded of seeing his sister being killed.

Harry acted like he wasn’t interrupted. “– I knew you before the Games.” Hermione started to cry harder. She kept her eyes closed, not wanting to see the light leave Harry’s once vibrant green eyes as she held his hand, her heart falling to dust. Ron was silent too without any words to comfort any of them.

“Hermione.” Hermione felt a soft squeeze around her hand and forced her eyes open. “Tell my parents that I love them.” She nodded. “And I love you. Don’t forget.”

“I love you too, Harry.” She replied brokenly. Then Harry stared at the still gray sky and there was water but neither Ron nor Hermione acknowledged it as Harry died, signified by a loud blast in the background. They sat there with Harry in a puddle of rain and blood, taking their time before the two of them turned their faces to the sky, opening their mouths.

Hermione knew it wasn’t enough to quench her thirst but it was better than having nothing. In the middle of savoring the comfort of rain, Ron stood up and walk to his bow and arrow, shattering the state of relaxation and replacing it with the heart-thumping anticipation of another fight. It was expected of them after all.  _It would be harder if it were Harry_ , she told herself but she still didn’t want to move.

“Hermione.” Ron said when he picked up his bow and arrow. “I’m giving you thirty seconds.”

“Ron…” Hermione was ready to give up right there, unable to wrap her head around the idea of coming home with Harry’s death hovering her.

“No, Hermione! We do this properly!” Ron said, nocking his arrow. “If either of us is going to kill each other, we’re doing it with a fight. That’s what they want, right? That’s what  _all of you_  want, right?!” He roared at the sky. “None of this pathetic surrender crap, Granger. Thirty seconds.” She took Harry’s sword, which felt foreign in her left hand, and stood up, staring at Ron with heavy, bloodshot eyes.

“Promise to make it quick?” She asked in a faraway voice.

“I will if you will.”

She nodded then left. First she walked, after a few steps she jogged, and when she was far enough she ran.

Three of her worst fears were realized that year. One, being reaped. Two, Harry being the other tribute. Three, killing Harry in the Hunger Games. She wasn’t going to let a fourth one actualize, not even if Ron stood in her way. These were the Games and she had no other choice.

She ran to a few houses along her row, opening the doors then closing them just a little bit to make them suspicious. Then she moved to another row of houses, sticking to a wall so she could take off her boots without Ron seeing her. She couldn’t tell where Ron was or if he was near, the rain took care of that, and he wasn’t running like her. She crept to another row of houses, this time, closing two doors loud enough to be heard in the rain then she ran to one last house to hide there, closing the door as quietly as possible.

Trapped in a tiny house with one door and one window, with her hands not at their best, it would look to the audience that Hermione could do nothing more but wait for her death at the hands of a friend. When she pressed herself against the door, it seemed that she was asking for an arrow to get shot into her head. Hermione knew and ignored those thoughts and the fear, focusing on Ron’s whereabouts in the rain which wasn’t an easy feat with her heart acting like she was running a marathon.

Hermione waited until she heard the door in the house beside hers being flung open and she ran for the window. She climbed out of it, using her only her legs for as long as possible until she needed her other hand to hoist her over the ledge. She bit down hard on her tongue, keeping the sound of her pain to the barest of whimpers and she jumped out of the window. She whipped her head from side to side, checking for red around the corner as she swung the window close with the tip of the sword, leaving it an inch ajar to coax Ron towards it. She inched along the wall, turning the corner of the left side of the house just as she heard the door swing open.

She had a few seconds.

Hermione ran around the house’s side and to the door, her throat closing up and her heart starting to collapse. When she reached the threshold, Ron had his back towards her and she cut through the air to the best of her left hand’s power. Ron’s ears caught the splash of water behind him and turned with the bow already tense and let go.

It was too late.

Their eyes met, bulging at the same time when they realized what had happened. Hermione let herself scream as the pain worked its way from her lung to her arm then to the rest of her body. Ron's breath became labored. While Hermione clutched her chest, trying her best not to breathe too hard, Ron was falling against the door, holding onto the knob to keep himself up. It wouldn’t change the fact that he had a sword jammed through his stomach but he thought, as his vision blurred and blackened, that if he stayed awake long enough, Hermione might die first.

Hermione stared as her knees gave in and she fell to the ground, wanting to open her mouth to apologize again but couldn’t because of the agony that crippled her body with even the tiniest twitch.  _I’m so sorry, Ron._ She thought at him even though he couldn’t hear.  _I wish I could help it be easier but I can’t. I can’t._ When she laid on her side, she closed her eyes, unable to take any more. Hermione wondered if she’d died and this was what death felt like, cold and painful.

But then the pain went away and although she was cold, she didn’t mind. She could smell trees which meant she was close to home. There was a voice, a loud one from all around. It was her mother, waking her up from a nap. She never liked naps, they seemed so unproductive to do and she had all night to rest her head but this napped seemed…nice. Relaxing.

When was the last time she relaxed? 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn't really sorry for that summary


	8. Consequences

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Victor lives with the consequences

“Do you think you’ll be alright with winning?” Ron had asked this question but this time Rita Skeeter brought it up with his name. Hermione kept herself from throwing something at her interviewer.

“I’m not sure yet.” She said as she tried not to tremble, reliving her last memory of Ron. Then Harry.

Whenever she was alone, Hermione cried. There were books waiting for her in her room in the Training Center but whenever she attempted to pick up a book, everything flashed before her eyes like that horrible three hour ceremony of seeing ghosts on a screen and Panem having a full view of her reaction. Only, unlike the ceremony, she couldn’t turn away from the memories.

That recap was humiliating even though it was meant to praise her. Praise her for surviving that long. Praise her for killing her friends. She abhorred every second of it and was always a push away from murdering her prep team or Rita Skeeter. She had thought of killing President Riddle too but when he put the pointless crown on her, it was almost like he was taunting her to do it by the way he met her eyes.

Even though she knew that she was going to get shot down the moment she moved against the president, she was still tempted. It might or might not end the Games but someone had to pay for what she turned into.

The train ride home wasn’t as much of a comfort as she thought. All she wanted was to go home and stay under a blanket for the rest of her life, but the emptiness that Harry left made her anxious. What were Lily and James going to think? What will her parents? What will their friends? Was she going to live in Victor’s Village afraid of coming out in hopes of not ever seeing faces that condemned her for Harry’s death? And what of Ron’s district? How was she supposed to go on this Victory Tour without collapsing out of fear? At the beginning of the Games, she had Harry to soothe her and hold her. All she had left now was Dolores Umbridge who was a perfectly disgusting example of the Capitol and Horace Slughorn who tried too hard to make her happy by telling jokes and reminiscing about the joys of being a victor.

Hermione couldn’t sleep, afraid of the dreams she might have of Harry and Ron, of Cormac, of tracker jackers, of Luna, of a mob led by Lily and James. She stared at the clear sky and wondered if winning and going home was worth it or if the twenty-three dead tributes had it better. When she reached the station in District 7, she knew that the latter was true. They didn’t have to worry about what other people thought of them now. They didn’t have to go to sleep and have nightmares. They didn’t have to think about having children. They didn’t have to figure out what to do with the rest of their lives knowing what they did in the arena. They didn’t have to go back to the Games with a fresh batch of tributes waiting to be slaughtered for the Capitols enjoyment.

There was no real glory in winning.

But when the train doors slid open and seeing her parents being joined by James, Lily, Sirius, Remus, Tonks, and baby Teddy, still smiling though eyes were wet with tears, she realized that she wasn’t as alone as she thought she’d be.

Hermione’s mother opened her arms as she rushed to her. “My baby. Oh, my baby.” She sobbed into Hermione’s shoulder, the embrace growing tighter with each heave. Her father joined in. This was the first time since she first left Harry and Ron’s presence that she truly felt that she was in a safe place.

She met James and Lily’s bittersweet gazes and her fat tears flowed down her face. “Mom…I need to…” Her mom nodded, letting Hermione go hesitantly as if someone was going to kill her if she went too far.

“I’m…” She shuddered and sniffled, her head bowed down in shame. “I’m so…”

“Hermione…my dear.” Lily said in a raw voice as she stroked Hermione’s hair gently. Then she was pulled into an embrace that almost as viselike as her mother’s. “I understand. I understand completely.” The two of them cried in each other’s arms, mourning Harry’s death.

“We brewed tea just before you arrived.” Remus announced with a subdued tone. “Shall we?”

Hermione was grateful they skirted around the subject of the Games as much as they could manage, fussing over her health, giving her all the luxuries she knew they could afford now in a way. They filled her with stories, inane and interesting alike, just to keep her mind out of the morose cloud she carried all around. But soon, before the sun went down and the Grangers had to leave for home, they let Hermione go up to Harry’s room to cry. Lily sat with her, crying as well as Hermione’s mother kept them both company, mostly because she wasn’t sure she could ever let her daughter out of her sight anymore.

Winning still ultimately felt worse than dying but seeing her parents again, having the chance to read more books, and knowing that not everyone in their district hated her guts helped her carry the weight. 


End file.
